


A Tale of a Boy

by runningsissors



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-11
Updated: 2011-09-11
Packaged: 2017-10-23 16:05:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningsissors/pseuds/runningsissors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe it was because he just couldn’t piece together the words without sounding like a child. Maybe he just didn’t want to hear the reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tale of a Boy

**Author's Note:**

> written for theair_thesun 2010 fic exchange over @ livejournal

 

**I**

 

 

 

There use to be a time when it got to him; when he couldn’t deal with it all.

 

He’d pull the number she’d given them off the cork board by the phone, and punch it into the corded phone.

 

_How could you just leave? Do Dad and I mean nothing to you?_

_Was being home so unbearable that you had to flee the country?_

_How could you abandon me? How could the both of you just fucking leave me here on my own to take care of everything?_

_How could you be so damn selfish? I thought we were a family..._

He always hung up by the second ring.

 

Maybe it was because he just couldn’t piece together the words without sounding like a winey child. Maybe he just didn’t want to hear the reason. 

 

But there were days when he wanted to just throw up his hands and yell, “fuck it all. I’m done.”

 

Days where homework had been abandoned because laundry needed to be done, and he’s the only person who can get into the back room, or doctor’s appointments that needed driving to, or just days where it was a struggle getting his dad out of bed. 

 

He stopped calling when his dad started grumbling about the long distance charges.

**II**

 

 

“Dude,” Embry hisses, chucking a balled up piece of paper at his head, “you’re, like, two seconds away from having Mrs. Carrow come over here and slam a book over your huge skull. Wake the fuck up!”

 

Jacob shakes his head groggily and sits up in his desk. He rubs at his eyes, cracking a few fingers in the process and runs a hand through his hair.

 

He’s been falling asleep in class all week. It’s a miracle he hasn’t been caught yet.

 

To his left, Quil’s drawing Hitler moustaches on the opened page of his American History text book.

 

Suddenly Mrs. Carrow whips around from the front of the board, her eyes narrowing on their two rows of desks, and rushes over.

_“Dawson!”_ she bellows, directing her wrath on a guy at the back corner fiddling with a zippo lighter.

 

As she whizzes by them to confiscate the offending object, Quil leans over in his seat to Jacob and Embry with a genuine expression of awe on his face.

 

“Woah!” he exclaims quite loudly, “Look at the old bat go! She can really motor when she wants to.”

 

This, of course is the moment she stops in her tracks, pivoting on her clunky heel to cast her eyes at the three boys.

 

“Shit,” Jacob groans, smothering his hands with his face.  

**III**

He’s grown taller again, his shoulders filling out and in light of this he has perfected a self-assured defiant gait. His voice is deeper too and with it he’s developed a sarcastic intonation that seems to drive his dad and Bella alike up the wall.

 

She constantly stares at him with her big brown, broken eyes and her hands wrapped tight across her stomach. It’s not a motion of someone in pain, but rather in the way of a person being consumed from inside.

 

He doesn’t know what to do. He’s tired of lives falling apart around him.

 

His forehead bears the signs of his worry, having developed a permanent crease between his eyebrows.

 

And for every urge he has to still rip his sister’s number off the board; to swear and shout and lay in bed, he just has to catch a small smile creeping its way up Bella’s lips, or hear her trying to engage in their normally one sided banter to know that every day he gets up is a good day.

**  
**

**IV**

She’s sitting in the garage when he gets home, her legs tucked under herself as she bites down on the cap of her pen.

 

He’s never been more jealous of an inanimate object. 

 

“Hey,” he says gruffly, tossing his backpack to the ground with a hard thud.

 

She flicks her head up and smiles at him. Oh, God. “Hi, I got here before you. That never happens.”

 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, running a hand over his face to keep him alert. “I had a detention after school.”

 

Bella pushes a loose strand of hair from her face, a small frown forming on her lips. “Why did yo-”

 

“Quil,” he cuts in, shaking his head. She nods, not needing any more explanation than that.  

 

He can feel her eyes following his movements as he walks over to pop the hood of the Rabbit. She has this huge anxious vibe coming off her in waves and he can’t figure out why.

 

“Bells,” he calls from the belly of the Rabbit, “do you think you could grab me a socket wrench? The one in my green tool box, maybe?”

 

“Oh, um, okay...” she says hesitantly. He can hear her digging through the box, the sound of metal clanging.

 

A few moments later she returns and thrusts her hand into the hood. “Here,” she says brightly, proud of herself.

 

He smiles to himself. Of course, she’s brought him the wrong tool. But her tiny pale fingers hold the combination spanner out to him with such care, and her small grin is so filled with pride, he can’t bear to tell her.

 

He takes the wrench and smiles at her. “Thanks,” he mumbles, rubbing his thumb against her wrist as he takes the tool.

 

“See,” she says, plopping back down onto the seat of what was once a part of an old minivan, “I think I’m catching on.”

 

“Yeah, you’re a regular Tim Taylor, you are.”

 

He bangs around under the hood for a few seconds, pretending to put the tool she’s given him to use, then pulls out, careful not to smash his head on the hood.

 

He makes his way over to the tool box, catching a side long look at Bella. She’s staring at the wall now, her eyes flitting between the exposed wooden structural beams, and the _Bruce Lee_ poster pinned above a scrap kitchen counter Jacob salvaged from the dump last year.

 

“So,” he says, grabbing the socket wrench from the tool box and wiping it down with a close by rag, “I know you don’t like social gatherings, but there’s a party this Saturday, and I was maybe wondering if you wanted to check it out?”

Bella turns her head to him, a pained expression on her face. “I dunno, Jake...” she fidgets in her seat, “I wouldn’t know anyone other than you and I’m not that much of a conversationalist...”

 

“It wouldn’t be like that,” Jacob says, trying to sound nonchalant. “We wouldn’t need to stay long, just for like an hour or so, and then we cut out and do whatever you want.”

 

This whole thing is pulling further and further away from him with each hesitant look on Bella’s face.

 

He decides to look back down at what he’s doing with the rag, in fear of seeing the rejection written all over Bella’s face. _She doesn’t want to go, you fucking idiot!_ He thinks viciously to himself. _She’s sad and unhappy and the last thing she wants is to spend an evening around rowdy drunk teenagers she’s never met_. _Jesus, she probably thinks I’m asking her out..._

 

“Don’t worry... it wouldn’t be a date or anything,” he blurts out, looking up at her.

 

She tips her head down, blushing slightly. “I didn’t think it would be.”

 

“Oh, um...yeah. Good. I just wanted to clarify that...” He rubs at the tool harder now, releasing his frustration out on the poor socket wrench. _God, of course going out with you is a horrifying idea. You breathe air and digest things other than blood. Totally not her style._

 

“You’d be saving me really,” he says, faking a casual tone while trying to brush off the sting of Bella’s reply, “...like, you don’t even know it. Quil’s got his eye on some girl who’s just broken up with her boyfriend, so Embry and I are being dragged to this thing as his wing men, and I just thought I’d ask you, too. Purely in the pursuit of seeing Quil make a complete ass out of himself. Stupid idea. Forget I said anything.”  

 

The garage falls into an awkward silence for a moment, the only sound coming from the noisy power generator.

 

“I’ll go,” she says after a moment, looking up at him with big eyes.

 

He stares at her for a second, not quite sure what to say. “You really don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

 

“It’s not a stupid idea,” she says earnestly, pushing her book and loose papers off her lap. “Well, maybe the part about Quil, but the rest isn’t. I’ll tag along.” She smiles softly at him, “I could use a good laugh anyway.”

 

Yeah, so could he.  

**V**

The first car he ever worked on was a 1978 _Mercury Bobcat_. Well, technically he didn’t do much of the manual labour, but at eight-years-old he was pretty damn impressed with himself. 

He would stand there, head bowed over the hood of the car, flashlight in hand, watching his dad’s hands twist and crank.

 

And his dad would smile at him, “hey, champ wanna throw that light a little to the left?”

 

And his dad would draw a line of grease across Jacob’s cheeks and call him a warrior. He’d run into the house all excited and his mom would smile, fighting back a laugh as he described the day’s work to her.

 

She always nodded, making sure to show how impressed she was when he dropped the names of parts and machinery he’d learned.  

 

And his dad would let him crawl under with him to do body work on the undercarriage. He’d get to screw in and oil up the universal joint seal all by himself.

 

They worked every chance they could get. But sometimes things happened.

 

His dad would start missing joint connections or oil block ups, and would hurt his hands doing things that even Jacob knew were wrong.

 

But eventually they finished.  

 

He’d never loved a car quite as much as he loved the Bobcat.

 

He loved it until it flipped three times on the 110 headed east into La Push; swerving to miss a buck jumping out from the bush. 

 

Loved it until he watched the pulse of his mother’s heart beat slowly die away, taking her with it. 

**VI**

 

 

“It’s alive!” Billy cries in a mocked horrified voice as he wheels into the kitchen.

 

Jacob lifts his head from his bowl of Fruit Loops and rolls his eyes.

 

“Yeah well good morning to you, too.”

 

Billy smirks, grabbing one of his bottles of prescription pills from the counter and dispensing two rather large light blue tablets.

 

“Just shocked to see up you up this early, is all.”

 

Jacob runs his finger along a grain pattern on the wooden table. “I've got patrol in an hour and Paul gets really bitchy when I’m late for the switch off, something about needing sleep or whatever. I never really pay attention.”

**  
**

His dad nods, “well we wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

 

“I made coffee, if you want any. We need more filters by the way.”

 

“I’ll add it to the list.” Billy pours himself a mug and wheels over to join Jacob at the table. “I was planning on making a run up to _Point Market_ today anyway.”

 

“Oh,” Jacob says, looking up at his dad with a guilty expression, “I was gunna hang-out with Bella today, but I can call her if you want.”

 

Billy gives him a look and takes a sip of his coffee, “Jacob, I’m capable of getting groceries on my own. I’m not completely helpless, you know.”

 

Jacob looks down, “I know, Dad. I didn’t mean it that way. I just-” he stops, fixing his dad a glare when he hears him chuckling. “Give me a break. My brain can’t function at six in the morning.”

 

“You seem to be spending a lot of time with Bella these days.”

 

They’ve stepped into dangerous territory now. “Yeah, so?”

 

“So...”

 

“We’re friends. That’s what friends do. They hang-out.”

 

Billy makes a face. One of those faces that says he can see past the bullshit. _“Friends?_ You sure about that. _”_

 

Jacob grinds his back teeth together, biting back the snappy reply. “Yeah, friends.”

 

He gives another high browed stare down, before grabbing yesterday’s paper and folding it open.

 

“So, I bumped into Wendy Stonewood at yesterday’s Council meeting; she was sitting in for George. She told me that Noah got the _Harold Hayden Memorial Scholarship Fund_.”

 

“That’s the one Rach got, isn’t it?”

 

Billy takes another sip of his coffee, “Yes, it is. The Stonewood’s are a good family. They have a daughter, don’t they?”

 

Jacob shovels another mouthful of cereal into his mouth, “weah,” he mumbles, swallowing quickly, “Chelsea’s in my grade. I think I had a class with her last year.”

 

“Ah, that’s right,” he says, wheeling over to pour himself another cup. “Pretty little thing, if I can remember.”

 

“I guess...” he shrugs, and then frowns, turning his head to give Billy a pointed look. “What are you getting at, Dad?”

 

“Nothing,” he replies quickly, giving Jacob a look he knows all too well. “I’m not getting at anything. I was just making conversation.”

 

They sit in silence for a moment. Jacob pokes at his cereal and swears under his breath.

 

“Maybe-” Billy finally says, taking a sip of his coffee, “you should ask her out sometime...”

 

Jacob looks up from his bowl again in annoyance, “I think I’ll pass.”

 

“What’s the issue? She’s in your year, she’s pretty and her family is well respected within the communi-”

 

“Jesus, Dad, what are you, my matchmaker? I’m not interested, so drop it.”

 

Billy sets down his mug and stares sternly at him, “Jake, I’m not trying to pry into your life, but I don’t want to see you waiting around for something that might never happen-”

 

 “I don’t want to talk about this,” Jacob snaps, pushing his chair back with a loud squeal as it drags across the linoleum.

 

“Bella’s a sweet girl, but there’s only so much you can do for someone who doesn’t want to change-”

 

“Seriously, Dad,” Jacob spits out, running a hand violently through his shorn hair, “you really need to drop this.”

**VII**

There’s only one instance that Jacob can remember of his dad getting truly upset with him.

 

It had been just after his first phase, and he was sitting in the kitchen drumming his fingers across the table top.

 

His dad had wheeled in, and without even giving Jake a chance to defend himself, had plain out told him no. “Don’t even think about calling that girl, Jacob. Move on.”

_That girl_

 

What? Did she not even deserve a first name now?

 

He could feel his body begin to quake. This was all still new to him, but he remembered Sam warning him about the symptoms before he couldn’t control himself.

_  
_

_It’s Jekyll and Hyde,_ Sam had told him.

 

Nobody understood. Not one single one of them knew how much she needed him. They didn’t know her; they couldn’t see the way her shoulders would relax when he was in the room, and the way her arms would slacken around her stomach.

 

They just didn’t fucking get it. They needed each other.

So Jacob did the one thing he’s always been good at; shooting off his mouth.

 

All he had to do was mention them. Rachel and Rebecca _(not Becca; she lost that right when she left)_.

 

He knew he’d hurt him; could see it in the way his proud father hung his head. But maybe then he’d get what Bella meant to him. Maybe then he’d understand why he had to be there for her.

 

To keep her from abandoning everyone, like his sisters did to him and Dad.

**VIII**

 

“So, whose house is this party at again?” Bella calls from the back seat, turning to Jacob with hesitant eyes.

 

Quil’s got the bass turned up on the sound system so loudly he can feel his brain pulsing with it.

 

“David Spry,” Quil bellows out over the music, his head bobbing along.

 

“I thought it was at Matt Reiner’s house,” Embry turns in his seat and looks back at Jacob. “Jake, didn’t Taoma say it was at Matt Reiner’s in chem that one day?”  

 

“Uhh... I’m not sure.” He throws a small grin at Bella in hopes to ease her increasingly perturbed expression, “I heard Aiden Hatch was having the party...”

 

Bella shakes her head, crossing her arms tight across her chest. “Great, so none of you actually know who’s hosting the party. That’s great. Just great.”

 

“Chill, Bella,” Quil says throwing a smile over his shoulder, “what were you planning on doing? Shake his hand and thank him for hosting a lovely evening...”

 

Embry snorts at this, mumbling an apology when he catches Bella’s frown.

 

“No,” she says quickly, blushing. “I just mean, don’t you think you should at least know whose house you’re going to?”

 

“Well,” Quil says, drumming against the steering wheel, “I know he’s got dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin...”

 

Bella frowns even more, “Quil, you’ve just described basically every male currently living in La Push.”

 

Jacob can’t help but laugh. Bella throws him a look, but he just smiles and pats her knee.

 

“Lighten up, Quil,” he chuckles, “Bells isn’t the next _Animal House_ here, she’s not up on...”

 

Quil practically turns his whole body around in his seat and gapes at Bella. “You’ve never been to a house party, have you?”

 

“Dude!” Embry snaps, hitting Quil in the arm with a bit of force, “Eyes on the road!”

Quil turns back around, righting the car, and shakes his head. “I can’t fuckin’ believe it! How can you not have ever been to a house party? There, like, the staple for all teenagers before the ascent into adulthood.”

 

Bella blushes, her eyes falling to her lap and the ratty looking purse laying in it.

 

“I dunno,” she says quietly, “I was never really into parties and loud music and...stuff in Phoenix, and when I moved here...”

 

Jacob sees her wince and quickly snatches one of her hands before she can wind it around herself. He presses his palm into the cool skin of hers and squeezes just tight enough for her to feel it.

 

“Hey Quil,” Jacob says, changing the subject, “I promised Bella you’d make a complete ass of yourself tonight. So don’t disappoint her, okay?”

 

Her eyes flicker up and she gives a small smile. He grins back at her, winking to give reassurance.

 

“Fuck you, Black,” Quil yells over the music, “I’m nothing but smooth,”  

 

Embry snorts again.

**IX**

The term ‘packed in like sardines’ comes to his mind as even more kids push their way into the already way crowded family room.

 

Embry’s in the middle of an appallingly bad re-enactment of _The Blues Brothers_ , and while Jacob knows Bella has no idea what he’s talking about, she still giggles softly.

 

Jacob smiles at her. She catches his smile and grins meekly.

 

He knows he shouldn’t make a big deal out stuff like this, but he can’t help it.

 

Every once in while he catches her grinning that small shy smile at him; the kind of smile that only happens when she thinks he’s not looking. 

 

“There you guys are!”

 

 All three heads turn to see Quil bound into the room, knocking a nearby boy into his friend.

 

“I’ve been lookin’ for you three all fucking night!”

 

Embry rolls his eyes, “Yeah, I’m sure you have. How goes the _‘Great Hunt’_ , Grizzly Adams?”

 

Quil smirks, wagging his eyes. “Oh it goes, my friend. It goes. Women are like a sticky shift gear,” he winks at Bella, who blushes and ducks her head down, “they need to be coaxed.”

 

Jacob groans, “You’re full of shit.”

 

Bella covers her small giggle with her hand.

 

“I think there’s a slight difference between being charmed and being smashed off your ass,” Embry snickers, ducking from Quil’s knuckle when it comes swinging at him. “I mean don’t you feel a little guilty, taking advantage of poor girls who’ve chugged down one too many mixers?”

 

Quil puts his hand up in defence. “Whoa, man, I may be shameless, but I don’t do that.” He pauses, smirking impishly, “I wait till their tipsy, so their inhabitations are lowered, but they’re still conscious of their decisions.” 

 

Bella scowls, trying to hide the laugh wanting to burst out. “That’s awful.”

 

Jacob laughs at this.

**X**

“Bella, we’ve lost the ability to party! We need to live vicariously through you, you mere tiny mortal human, you. Now take the shot.”

 

Quil pushes the clear shot glass into Bella’s hand and grins.

“Don’t listen to Quil. He’s an asshole. You don’t have to do it.” He leans in close to her ear and is hit by the scent of her shampoo. It gives him cravings for strawberry milkshakes. God he’s hungry. It’s been, like, hours since he’s had anything to eat. 

 

“Shut-up, Jake. Now listen, Bella...” Quil grabs one of her hands and places it over his heart, “we’re friends. And as your friend I find it my responsibility to make sure you get everything out of your first party experience. That includes waking up with a hangover.”

 

Bella gnaws at her lip, her eyes flitting between the shot glass in her hand and Quil’s eager face.

 

“I mean,” Quil says, waving his free hand in a dramatic manner, “our badass wolf skills are mighty impressive and awesome and blahblahblah, but we’ve been stripped of man’s first simple pleasure...”

 

“Greasy food?” Embry quips in, smirking.

 

“No,” Quil says matter-of-factly, “getting drunk. We burn off the stuff before it can even do anything. So, Bella. Sweet, Bella. Do me proud and honour every-”

 

She downs the shot in one gulp; coughing slightly as she tips it back.

 

All three boys just stare at her; Jacob and Embry in muted suspense and Quil with the biggest grin on his smug face.

 

She thrusts the now empty shot glass at Quil’s chest and smiles.

 

“It tastes like watermelon. Is vodka supposed to taste like watermelon?”

 

“Naw,” Quil says, still grinning madly, “I swiped some girly stuff just for you,”

 

“Oh,” Bella licks at her lips, her small pink tongue darting out to the corner of her mouth. “I liked it.” 

 

Jacob can’t take his eyes off her. Quil gives him a raised eye and smiles widely, “well I’ll just go grab you some more then.”

 

Jacob readjusts his hand propped up on the wall beside her, and shakes his head in dismay.

 

Bella tips her head back, catches his eye and grins shyly.  

**XI**

**  
**

It’s not a hard thing, he thinks as he stomps up the stairs. He can track bloodsucking leeches; he should be able to locate the damn bathroom.

 

He stops at the first door, it opens with a bit of resistance and he stumbles into the room and...

 

 “Oh, shit! Uh, sorry...”  

 

Turns out Jenny Sampson lied; the bathroom _isn’t_ the first door on the left. He also now knows what Katy Foster looks like without her top on. 

 

He quickly slams the door shut and hurries to the next one. This one is in fact where the can is located, much to his relief.

 

When he gets back down stairs, Bella’s sat on the couch with Embry flanked on her left. Her cheeks looked flushed; more flushed than normal.

 

“Jesus,” Jacob swears, sprawling out on the floor in front of them, “finding Narnia would have been faster than locating a working toilet.”

 

Bella giggles, a small snort escaping. She blushes, slapping a hand over her mouth.

 

Jacob and Embry exchange a glance. Embry just shrugs in response.

 

She’s staring at the ceiling now, her brown eyes glued to nothing in particular.

 

“Hey, Bells,” he rests a hand gently on her knee, “maybe I should driv-”  

 

Quil bounds up behind the couch with two red plastic cups in his hands.

 

“Here you go, m’lady,” he hands Bella one of the cups and she smiles lazily at him, taking an eager gulp.

 

“Dude,” he throws a stern look in Quil’s direction. “Stop giving her drinks. She weighs, like, two pounds and you’re gonna make her sick.”

 

“She’s only had, like, one and a half. A little buzz never hurt anyone.”

 

“Yeah, but-”

 

“Jake,” Bella says loudly, interrupting the two boys. “I think I need to pee. Can you help me find the bathroom?”

 

She abruptly stands up, wobbling a little at first, and marches towards the stairs with her cup still grasp firmly in her hand.

 

He hops up after her, throwing a glance over his shoulder, and hurries to her side.

 

As they take the stairs, he loops an arm around her waist to help steady her. They pass a boy whom Jacob recognizes from his P.E class last semester, on the way up.

 

 _“Nice,”_ he whispers to Jacob as they bump shoulders. He nods to Bella (who’s completely oblivious to this male interaction) and smirks.

 

He can feel his cheeks get warm. He’s just been given the universal male nod of approval. He should feel guilty, or at least tell the guy he’s got the wrong idea. Instead he shrugs, rolling his eyes in a manly way.

 

A guy can indulge just a little, right?  

 

“I forgot my purse!”

 

Bella whips around, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady her tipsy movement. “I left it downstairs with Embry.”

 

Jacob secures his grip around her waist and grins, “I’ll get your purse for you. Bathroom is the second door on the left. It’ll be waiting for you when you get out.”

 

She grins, “m’kay,”

**XII**

The hallway is flooded with light as the door swings open. He could hear her struggling with the lock for a few moments. He could also hear her humming as she peed.  

**  
**

Bella grins triumphantly at him, her head tilting just a little and her eyes softening. He likes how much she’s smiled tonight; regardless if it’s because she’s drunk.

 

The important part is that she’s feeling good.

 

He pushes himself from the banister railing and holds his hand out for her, “I had to pry your bag from Embry’s hands. He’s been looking for a new one for a while now.”

 

Her little pink tongue pokes out from her lips as she wets them. “You’re such a liar,” she giggles, taking his open hand. “It’s way too crappy for anyone to want to steal it.”

 

Her hand is still a little wet and he can smell the clean soap clinging to her skin.

 

As they make their way to the stairs, Bella veers off to the right towards a closed door, pulling Jacob (well she can’t actually pull him, but he naturally followed her) with her.

 

“Bells,” he begins but she shushes him and turns the knob. It’s dark, but the outline of a double bed is visible and the air is thick with stale cigarette smoke.

 

“I just wanna lie down for a sec’,” she whispers, stepping into the dark room. “My head is spinning. Just a second, and then we can go back downstairs.” She drops his hand and stumbles towards the bed.

 

He casts a look over his shoulder before stepping hesitantly into the room. He’s feels a little sketchy being in someone’s random room, but hey, this what party’s are about, are they not? 

 

“Jake,” she says, rolling onto her back and lifting her arms straight into the air, “my arms feel like they’re tingling all over.” She sways them back and forth mimicking the tide of the ocean. “Is that a normal thing when you’re drunk?”

 

He laughs, resting his back against the frame of the door. “Yeah, Bells, that tends to happen.”

 

She stares intensely at her fingers, spreading them apart and wiggling them individually.

 

The voice in his head (Quil) is screaming at him not to be a pussy. The room isn’t going to rat them out, and besides they’re not doing anything wrong. Totally innocent.  

 

He squares his shoulders and flops onto the open space beside her, chest first. Bella’s arms go limp and drop to her side as she turns her head to look at him, a small smile playing at her lips.

 

She rolls onto her side, pillowing her head with an arm. “Jake,” she whispers in a serious voice, “I think I’m a little drunk.”

 

Jacob guffaws, turning his head into the covers to stifle his laugh.

 

“This isn’t funny,” she hisses in a poorly attempted serious tone, pushing at him. “I’m the Chief of Police’s daughter, and I’m drinking under age. I’m a bad example.”

 

He turns his face back to her, grinning. “It’s a little funny, Bells. Besides, he’s only Chief of Police in Forks. La Push has its own police force. Your image is safe here.”

 

She grins shyly, her eyes drooping ever so slightly. He laughs again, causing her to cover her face with her hands. “I’m definitely drunk.”

 

“I’m really glad you came tonight,” he rolls onto his side to face her better and smiles.

 

She pulls at her lip with her teeth, leaving a chapped mark on the skin. “I’m glad I came, too. This was fun.”  

 

They stare at each other for a few seconds. Bella’s lashes fluttering open with every blink of her eye and he can see a freckle hidden in her hair line.

 

Then she’s pushing her face forward – and oh, God – her lips are a hairs breath away from his and in like, .002 seconds he knows they’re going to kiss if he doesn’t move.

 

Every fibre in his body is screaming at him to press his lips against hers. To push her into the mattress with the weight of his body and kiss her until she feels like her lungs will give out.

 

He moves his head back.

 

“Maybe we should do this another time.”

 

It kills him; rips every organ in his body to say the words that come out of his mouth, but deep down he knows he’s right. He wants her to kiss him because she’s ready. Not because she’s on a temporary pick-me-up.

 

Bella stares at him for a moment, a thousand expressions showing in her eyes before she settles on one that makes his heart plummet to his feet. That’s a long way down these days.

 

Quickly she sits up, putting what feels like miles of distance between them and hides behind a curtain of hair.

 

“Shit I...Bells,” he sits up, placing a hand on her back. “I didn’t mean--”

 

She scoots further away from him, wrapping her arms around her stomach.

 

He’s made her wrap her arms around herself.

 

“Bells,” he gently pulls back the curtain of hair separating them. There are silent tear tracks running the length of her cheek. “You know how crazy I am for you-”

 

“Not crazy enough to want to kiss me.” She mumbles, her sad eyes finally meeting his.

 

“I _am_ that crazy.” He wraps a hand around her wrist, “It actually physically hurts sometimes how badly I want to kiss you, Bella. But I don’t want to be a regret to you.” Something inside him clenches painfully. “I know you don’t want this-”  

 

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” she says, her eyes losing that withered down quality to them. “I want to be normal again.”

 

“You _will_ be--”

 

“No. I won’t.” She gets up, pacing the floor in a panicked way. “I’ll never be normal again. Normal left me the moment I fell in love.” Hands dig into her already protruding ribs, “when I close my eyes, he’s all I see...”

 

She drops her hands suddenly, wringing them against her stomach. “But I want you to be as happy as you make me, and I thought if I kissed you, you would be and then maybe it would be okay, and I’d feel something. But you didn’t want to kiss me, and I wanted to because you look really good, and my head is still spinning—”

 

She stops her pacing and looks around the room. “I think I ate something funny... I don’t feel very good.”

 

Oh, crap.

**XIII**

Jacob practically snaps his back in two hunching over the sink as he spits out a mouthful of toothpaste.

 

There’s a knock from the front. “It’s opwen,” he calls, the toothbrush still hanging from his mouth.

 

“Hi,” 

 

He turns from the sink, white foam still dripping from his chin, and smiles. “Ay, Bellws!”

 

She frowns, “why are you brushing your teeth in the kitchen sink?”

**  
**

Quickly he spits, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, “oh, uh, bathroom sink’s clogged. I have to fix it today.”

 

She nods, smiling slightly.

 

He rinses out the sink and turns to lean against the counter. “How was work?”

 

She grimaces, rolling her eyes. “I had to do inventory all morning, so pretty dull.” 

“Well then we can do whatever you want tod— hey, what do you have behind your back?”

Bella blushes, shifting her weight, “Oh, ah... it’s really stupid. But um,” she pulls her hands from behind her back and produces three bright looking daffodils. She gives a small very embarrassed smile, “I asked Mike what he does when he needs to apologize to someone he cares about, and he said flowers were always a good idea...”

He smiles, a chuckle rumbling through his chest. “You got me flowers? Isn’t that generally what a guy does?”

 

She blushes again, “yeah, well, that’s what happens when you get a boy’s advice. Besides, that’s a sexist stereotype. I bet lots of guys would love getting flowers if they only understood what flowe-”

He takes the daffodils from Bella’s hand and brushes his lips against her forehead. “Thanks, honey.”

 

She smiles, more of that red blush creeping up her skin in a way that Jacob is sure he could easily watch all day.

 

“Why are you apologizing to me though?”

 

She scuffs her shoe across the floor, staring down at it like she wants it to swallow her whole. “For last night. I was kind of a mess.”

 

“Well, I didn’t deliver on you getting to see Quil make an asshole of himself, so I’d say we’re even.”

 

“But I threw-up on you!”

 

He laughs, “No you didn’t. You just kept saying you were going to be sick; you weren’t actually though.”

 

“Still,” Bella says quietly, willing him with her eyes to take this seriously, “thank-you. For everything.”

 

He smiles, pulling her into his arms. She’s stiff and unresponsive at first (just like every time he’s ever deliberately hugged her) but quickly she pillows her head into his chest and wraps her arms around his waist.

 

If there was ever a time to prove that Bella was made for him, this is it. Because it’s not just a coincidence that she fits to his body like a well loved glove. It can’t be.

 

He trails his hand over her side, running over every rib that painfully protrudes (still) from her body. He feels the sharp point of her hip, her elbow, her nose. Everything is sharp about Bella Swan. She’s made of jagged edges it seems these days.

 

“You know,” he says against the shell of her ear, his voice coming out thicker than he had thought it would, “I wouldn’t mind if you tried to kiss me now.”

 

She shoves him gently, trying to hide her small grin, “I’ll think about it.”

**XIV**

_Uh...hey Becca, it’s Jake. Your brother Jake, that is. I don’t know if maybe there’s a Jake in Hawaii that you know or...shit._

_Anyway, I just thought I’d call because it’s Dad’s birthday next week and he’d really like it if you called home sometime, so you know, just uh... think about it._   
****

_Umm... I guess that’s it. I miss you. We all miss you._   
****

_So, yeah, just...uh... drop us a line._

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
